


Sara Sells Out

by gabg



Category: Tegan and Sara (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:17:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7771687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabg/pseuds/gabg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Backstage at a show on the LY2D tour, Tegan asks Sara what she'd want to be other than a musician.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sara Sells Out

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5iilwcUwdvs

Backstage is unusually calm tonight. It’s a smallish venue, in a city where Tegan and Sara haven’t had to do much press before the show, which means no reporters filling the cavernous rooms behind the stage. The twins find themselves kicking back on some soft furniture—Tegan has claimed the couch, while Sara is curled up in a purple armchair—in a rare moment of quiet, with about twenty minutes until they go on.

Tegan has missed this. She’s older now, sure, but the almost two-year hiatus between _Heartthrob_ and _Love You To Death_ was rejuvenating in more ways than one. She’s proud of how much she and Sara have grown as songwriters and musicians since the last album cycle, and loves nothing more than sharing the latest product of their passion (and dare she say it, the wisdom of being thirty-odd-year-old women in the form of onstage banter) with fans while on tour. This one isn’t any different.

Well, besides the lack of high kicks.

As she jiggles one sneaker-clad foot, the elder twin glances at her counterpart, who’s immersed in her phone. Tegan considers the countless moments like this one from past tours, where Sara would have had a guitar in her hands instead, but times have changed and that’s not a bad thing.

Unless Sara’s playing Pokémon GO again. She really needs to get over that, for God’s sake.

“Shura was so good earlier,” Tegan says, referencing their opener as she runs a hand through the back of her hair, which is longer than it’s been in years. She likes the feel of the smooth strands between her fingers, having abandoned the excessive amounts of gel long ago. She also likes that the style is similar to Sara’s present one, not that she’d ever admit how much she enjoys twinning, to coin a phrase. 

Anyway, she got the haircut first, so it’s really Sara who copied.

Whatever.

Sara doesn’t look up from her device. “Yeah, they love her.”

Tegan nods, absentmindedly rubbing her jaw with one finger. “It helps that she’s adorable and British.”

 No response. Tegan looks around the dimly lit room, which is devoid of decoration beyond a few posters announcing upcoming acts, a coffee station with snacks and a few other pieces of furniture.

“Hey,” Tegan says, suddenly feeling sentimental. 

“Hmm?”

“You like being a musician, right?” Tegan’s age-old guilt over being the one who originally dragged Sara into the band when they were teenagers—possibly against the latter’s will—never dies, despite Sara proving Tegan otherwise at countless opportunities over their lifetimes.

Sara rolls her eyes at the question, but still doesn’t make eye contact.

“Yeah, I guess so,” is her half-sarcastic response. She brushes a wayward strand of brown hair out of her eyes and continues focusing on her phone.

Tegan gets it, because she’s kicking a dead horse and acting needy, bringing up a conversation they’ve had a million times, but she can’t help her mood. 

“You _guess_ so?” she prods, fingering the lapel of her suede bomber jacket. “So if you could be doing anything else instead, what would it be?”

At last, Sara meets her sister’s eyes. “Okay, you’re feeling chatty tonight.”

Tegan just looks at her expectantly. 

Sara sighs. “I don’t know. Hedge funds, maybe?” She shrugs, slightly wrinkling her silk suit jacket at the shoulders. “I think I’d do the corporate sellout thing pretty well. Why are we talking about this again?”

A non-answer, but her sister is right. There’s no point in discussing such a beaten subject.

Tegan shrugs back as she plays with the zipper on one of her pockets. “Just curious,” she says.

Sara gives her the usual _you’re being weird_ look, then returns to her phone. 

She knows Sara just randomly threw out the idea she had mentioned, but Tegan considers it. Sara would be good at anything she tried, probably. They run their own business as it is, but unlike Tegan, Sara has both the ability to see the big picture and pay attention to detail.

She could be a big time executive, no sweat.

Tegan decides to close her eyes, just for a moment…

* * *

 A hallway.

She’s in a hallway.

Tegan is in a long, bright hallway, unsure of how she got there.

A heavy wood door in front of her is propped open just enough that she can make out an office. She’s got an unmistakable urge to peep inside, but before she does so, she takes note of a huge placard on the wall that reads Quin Enterprises in snazzy lettering.

Wow.

“…Do a deep dive and make sure we turn that around internally,” says a voice, so like Tegan’s own, belonging to someone who’s clearly on a phone. “I don’t need these guys pulling out because of your idiot team’s mess-up.”

Tegan opens the door wider, and enters the room. Her eyebrows rise in surprise at the sight; this is a dream, or so she thinks. 

But still.

It’s Sara, behind a desk in a smartly cut grey wool suit jacket and black shirt, her hair in a pristine French twist. Tegan wants to snort at the idea of Sara opting for such a girly, complicated hairdo, but has to admit she’s pulling it off.

Expertly applied makeup accentuates her sister’s heart-shaped face, but her painted lips are twisted in a scowl. “Fix it,” she hisses into the phone, before slamming it into the receiver and looking up.

“Well, if it isn’t my bohemian sister Tegan,” Sara greets her, steel in her voice.

Before Tegan can lob back an equally witty retort, Sara has the phone in her hands again.

“Stephanie? I told you I’m putting out no less than eight fires this morning, and that no one could come in here without an appointment. Especially Tegan,” she spits into the phone, then hangs up without waiting for a response.

With a pissed look on her face, she turns to Tegan, who opens and closes her mouth helplessly.

“Sara, what are you doing here? We have a show to do,” Tegan says when she remembers how to speak, crossing her arms and trying to ignore how hurt she feels. Or maybe they don’t have a show to do in this universe. She doesn’t know.

Sara rolls her eyes. “Tegan, you know very well what I’m doing here,” she says bitterly. “You went to sleep. You’re having a dream sequence where I quit the band and became the CEO of a company. Don’t start whining now that we’re here.”

Tegan knows it’s a dream, but even here, she has an irrational urge to win Sara’s affection.

“But, Sara, how am I going to be ‘Tegan and Sara’ without Sara? You need the Sara part,” Tegan protests, trying not to wilt under her twin’s glare. Jeez, this Sara has a terrible attitude.

“Tegan, I could escalate this matter further,” Sara says dramatically, waving her arms in an exaggerated motion, “But I’m as high as you can get at this company. You’re going to have to do more with less. Bye-bye.” She waves at Tegan with a mean little hand gesture, and Tegan frowns, but can’t seem to move her feet.

When Sara sees she isn’t budging, she gives another eyeroll and picks up the phone once more.

“Can I get security in here? Yeah, immediately. The fast one. Call the fast security team,” she growls.

Oh, no…

* * *

Tegan opens her eyes, yawning. A Sara blob comes into focus, and Tegan finds herself on the receiving end of a sweet smile.

She chuckles. 

“What?” Sara asks, her face turning inquisitive as she switches off her phone.

“Nothing. Had a weird dream,” Tegan smirks.

Sara makes a noncommittal noise, but frowns upon noticing a scuff on one of her black boots. She pulls a pen from her pocket and begins going over the scratch with it.

As Sara covers up the mark, Tegan sees there’s something written on the pen, and her brows knit together once she figures it out.

“Where’d you get that?” she asks casually.

Sara stops and looks at the pen. “Oh, from a fan the other day. She had this logo made, like a joke. Cute, huh?”

She offers it to Tegan, who doesn’t take it, but can only stare at what’s written on the side.

Quin Enterprises. In the same color and font as the sign in her dream.

Weird.


End file.
